


Waiting

by KatieBug1998



Series: Supernatural One-Shots, Sick Fics, Injured Fics, and Hurt/Comfort [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hunt Gone Wrong, Reader-Insert, injured reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieBug1998/pseuds/KatieBug1998
Summary: The reader is seriously injured on a hunt. Sam and Dean take you to Bobby's so he can patch you up. Dean is freaked to Hell.





	

"Just hang on," Sam says from the front seat of the Impala. "We'll be at Bobby's in ten minutes."

"Hurry up," Dean demands.

"I'm going as fast as I can without us getting pulled over," Sam says, trying to remain calm. "If we get a pulled over, they'll make us go to the hospital and we can't afford that. They'll ask to many questions," he rationalizes.

"I know, I know," Dean says. "You heard Sam," Dean says to you. "Just hang on."

"I'm trying," you say through gritted teeth.

It was a ghost this time. The spirit threw you through a window. Shards of glass, ranging in size, impaled themselves all over your body. None of them are deep enough to do serious damage, but there were so many and you're bleeding too much. The pain is horrible. It's a wonder you haven't passed out yet, a misfortune, really. You kept asking, begging, Dean to take the glass out. Surely it would be less painful if it was out. He said he couldn't because the glass might be the only thing keeping you from bleeding out. You've lost a lot of blood as it is.

The twenty minutes to Bobby's feels like an eternity.

Sam stops the Impala slowly so as not to jostle you. Bobby's outside waiting, holding a makeshift stretcher. Sam rushes to the other side of the car, next to Bobby. The boys slide you out of the car and onto the stretcher.

The pain is too much; you close your eyes and clench your fists so your nails bite into your palms.

After a minute, they set you down in some room.

"Let's get her off the stretcher," Bobby's gruff voice says.

You open your eyes and see Sam to your left and Bobby to your right. "I got you (Y/N)," Sam says to you. He leans over you and puts one hand behind your thigh and the other behind your shoulder. He turns you on your side, and you scream from the pain. Bobby pulls the stretcher out from under you, and Sam rests you down on what seems like a bed.

"Where's Dean?" You ask, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I don't know."

Quickly, Bobby says to Sam, "You go find him. I gotta get this glass out and stitch her up."

"Okay." Sam briefly squeezes your shoulder then leaves.

Your eyes focus on Bobby. His voice is kind but also urgent. "I gotta get this outta you, and I don't have time to give you anything for the pain."

"So what you're saying-" you pause to take a deep, shaky breath "-is that this is going to hurt like hell."

"Basically."

"Can't we wait for Dean?" you plead. All you want is for him to be there, holding your hand and whispering comforting things to you.

He shakes his head. "We can't wait any longer. You've already lost too much blood."

You close your eyes, forcing out more tears. You nod, silently telling Bobby you're ready.

"On three." Your body tenses in anticipation. "You gotta relax; it'll hurt worse if you don't." He puts a hand on your shoulder and waits for your muscles to go lax. "Alright. One. Two. Three."

He pulls the shard of glass out slowly. It must be a jagged piece because you can feel it tearing up your insides. More blood seeps from the wound, soaking your clothes. You try not to, but the pain is too much and you scream.

• • •

Dean's hands press tightly over his ears. He can't bear the screams. Sam continues rubbing Dean's back as your screams reach a crescendo. 

When everything quiets down, Dean drops his hands and sits up straight. Sam takes his hand off Dean's back and faces him. Dean breaths out, slow and shaky. "I can't do it, Sam."

"Dean, she's gonna be fine. Bobby knows how to handle this."

Dean shakes his head. "It's not that. All I want to be in there with her. Holding her hand and comforting her, you know? But it hurts too much – to see her in pain."

The brothers sit in silence until Bobby comes out. He's toweling blood off his hands, and Dean has to look away. "She's alright. Passed out. Finally. She lost a lot of blood, and I had to stitch her up, so she'll be tired and in pain for awhile."

Dean quickly runs his hand down his face and clears his throat. "Thanks, Bobby." Dean looks up and gives him a weak smile.

"Why I'm here," he states. "You wanna see her?" 

"Yeah."

The two men walk to the room you're in, stopping outside the door. "I'll leave you to it," Bobby says.

Dean opens the door quietly and walks in the room. "God," he whispers. He takes in your still form. You're laid out flat on the bed, covered with a blanket. As Dean walks closer, he sees how pale you are. Dean pulls a chair up next to your bed and sits down. He takes your cold hand in his and puts it to his lips. "I'm here, (y/n). I love you."

• • •

You wake up slowly, blinking against the bright light above you. Your whole body aches, but there's a sharper pain somewhere else. That's when it all comes back to you. Without really meaning to, you say Dean's name. Someone squeezes your right hand. You turn your head to the side to see Dean sitting there, relief and a huge smile plastered on his face. "Hey, (y/n)." He turns more serious. "How do you feel."

"Horrible, but I'm okay. Dean, what's wrong?" you ask quickly, wondering at his expression.

Dean reaches out to stroke your hair. "I just feel real guilty."

"It wasn't your fault," you say reassuringly.

"No, I know." He pauses, looking away. "I wasn't here. You were all alone... screaming." He drops his head. "I'm sorry. It hurt so much, seeing you in pain like that. I couldn't stand it. I shouldn't have been so selfish."

"Hey." You reach over and tilt his chin up with your left hand so he's looking at you. He does – he looks so sorry. "It's okay. You're here now." You put your palm against the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. "I love you too."

"Good." You both laugh, but you wince at the pain it causes. "Do you want me you get you something for the pain? Or something to eat?" he asks sympathetically.

"Something for the pain would be nice but I'm not ready to eat yet. I want you to stay with me for a little longer." You smile.

He smiles back at you. "Of course."


End file.
